Whispers
by GoaGreena
Summary: Luna, alone on the moon lets her mind wander. Allowing both the good and terrible thoughts to mingle and conflict. What is real? What is truth? Is there a difference? All she can do is think, trapped with herself, the stars and the Nightmare. The moon is cold. It is dark. It is barren, and the decline into madness is slow. Apologizing will bring nothing back.
1. Exile

Exile.

The moon is a barren place.

It's dark and dead and cold.

I'm drifting.

Drifting.

It has been ten days since my exile. Ten days since my sister, the holy giver of light, sentenced me to eternity on this wretched rock. I vowed not to talk to myself for fear of losing my mind but I've already broken that rule. I started speaking to myself a mere five days after my sentence. I used the Royal We in my speech out of habit but I see no use for it now. Who am I speaking for? Where are my subjects? Am I to be addressing the loyal _rocks_ of the moon?

Are rocks really all I have left?

I have to keep talking.

Keep talking.

I still have a voice.

I still speak for myself.

Even when there's no one to hear me...

The loneliness is what bothers me most. But it matters not. I am the Princess of the Night. I am Luna. I will go on. Even when the ponies of Equestria rose up against me. Even when my own sister imprisoned me on the moon. Even when my heart is broken, my spirit crushed. I will go on.

Ten days.

Ten days is nothing.

Ten days is a speck.

I feel nothing. Nothing at all.

How long can my sister hold a grudge?

How long can she deny me my night?

My love?

She is the good and beautiful Celestia.

She is loved by all.

_By all._

She will let me go.

For now, I am alright. I feel grand.

Just grand.

I will admit to breaking down on my second day. It felt too heavy to hold in. The tears were rolling down my cheeks before I had a chance to acknowledge them. Waking up to this wasteland was... it was a little more than I could bear. I tried to free myself and light down in the misty haze of the night below, but I failed. It was then that I realized what happened was real.

I flew too close to the sun, and my dreams burnt to ash.

It's all ash.

Oh, why is the moon so _cold_?

Shivering.

Nothing helps.

There are no blankets here,

and the only pillows are stone.

I only wanted to be loved...

"Enough!" I shout, rising up on my back legs. "Enough!" I feel the word burn in my chest. It comes out with a force that nearly knocks me off my hooves. I am not sure who I'm shouting at. I'm not sure why I feel the need to do this.

But it feels so _good_.

"_Enough!_" The air rushes out of my lungs, filling the body of the word. I throw it across the plains with all my might, and it echoes back to me from the other side of the moon. I feel satisfied but dizzy. I forgot to breathe.

I take a breath.

And it all comes back.

Crashing down on me,

forcing me to all fours.

I'm sinking.

I want to cry.

I see my sister.

Angry,

terrified,

concerned,

furious.

I've gone too far.

It was too much this time.

Why can't they love my night?

Why can't they love me too?

The ponies are all cowering around me.

All whimpering.

Eyes wide with fear.

They flinch with every movement I make,

every word I speak.

They are _afraid_ of me.

And my sister-

My sister stares me down.

She raises her head, summons her power

and magic blazes all around me.

I fight back.

I'm so angry.

So frustrated.

So _jealous_.

_Enough, sister!_

_Enough!_

_They will love my night!_

_They will have to._

_It will surround them._

_Forever._

Forever... forever... forever...

I'm trapped here forever.

It isn't fair. Did I _ask_ to be the younger sister? Did I ask to exist in the shadow of such a beloved soul? Did I ask to be shunned and lonely and _cold_ forever? Who is there to love the night? Who is there to sleep while the world is warm and wake when it is serene and beautiful? Why do so many shun the dark? It is in darkness that a light shines brightest. It is in darkness that the world is calm. The night is _beautiful_.

But the moon is nothing more than a _reflection_ of the _brilliance_ that is the sun.

"_Enough!_"

I fall to my knees, closing my eyes. I will shut it out. Shut it all out. I need to stop the regrets, the memories, the _cold._ I am fine. I feel _grand_. I feel as strong as the moon and as bright as the stars.

I am Luna.

I am the Princess of the Night.

All the sky is my home. In dreams I lift my wings and they carry me away. They catch a strong current and I'm off into space, gliding on stardust, drifting into the atmosphere. I land atop the highest point in the kingdom and drape the curtain of night over the sun-scarred land. I smile and wave and bow as the ponies rejoice. I raise the stars in bunches like fireworks and put on a little show. I must let the public know how much I appreciate them. I must show them what kind of leader I would be. I unfurl my wings and glide down to the ground, where my subjects await. "We are the night!" I exclaim in my royal tone and raise the moon high, in one solid burst. It soars across the sky and slows only when it reaches the peak. The public roars. I smile and my sister walks over. She places a hoof on my back and there are tears in her eyes. Tears like the ones she shed the first time I rose the moon. She's _proud_ of me. She thinks I'd make a good leader. A kind leader. A fair leader. She wants me to-

She wants me to...

And then the dream fades away.

I open my eyes.

Darkness.

I want to go home.


	2. Alone

Sometimes,

when I sit still

and gaze upon the world

without blinking,

I can watch it spin.

It rotates slowly,

cautiously.

It creeps around to face the moon on one side,

the sun on the other.

It does not favour one over the other.

It does not stay with the sun

for longer than the moon.

It is fair.

Always fair.

But planets are not ponies. Planets cannot love.

Last rotation I had a dream. I had gone too long without sleep and collapsed in a crater just south of the dark. I dreamed my sister had come to visit. At first, I welcomed her. I raced towards her, ready for embrace. She gazed out at nothing with hollow eyes, cold and dim. Her mane laid flat, her wings drooped. She stared right past me.

Through me.

As though I didn't exist.

When I finally reached her, I threw my forelegs around her shoulders, ready to hold on tight. I would hold on tighter than ever before and I would never, _ever_ let go.

Never let go.

But I slipped through her intangible frame and hit the ground. I fell to the dust and it rose up all around, engulfing us in a shroud of pale white.

Her eyes were glowing.

"Sister," she said in an echoing tone.

"Your moon is no longer needed,

you are nothing.

You borrow my light

but you are not worthy of it.

You are not worthy of you title.

Sister,

you are nothing."

I am nothing.

I woke with a start.

I had to look around to make sure I was alone.

Still alone.

I've been exploring the craters for a while now, but I am doing so gradually. I don't want to become sick of my surroundings too soon. So long as there is still one spot left I haven't explored, I will be alright.

The dips and dives and swirls of the landscape remind me of snowflakes in winter. None are identical. Some slope softly down towards a patch of smooth, downy dust. Some are jagged cliffs, reaching up to the sky, then plummeting past the ground, into the cold, close to the core. Others are nothing more than specks, rounded, still larger than I am but so, _so_ insignificant compared to the great caverns that surround them, stretching on for miles.

And dotting the area between them all are hoofprints. My hoofprints. Circling and twisting and entwining themselves with the slopes and dips and rises of the land. I trace a circle with my hoof, then another, and another. All varying sizes. All part of one giant mosaic of slate grey and faded white. The dots circle the craters to form a letter. An A. My hooves glide across the plains, dragging in the dust, forming an L, an O, and in one final stretch, an E.

Alone.

And seconds after I finish, a strong, impossible gust of wind wipes it clean.

She's still there.

Still watching.

How long has it been now?

More than a month,

less than two.

That would make it fall, then.

all the leaves have begun to turn.

Red and orange and yellow,

as the trees yawn

and stretch out their branches,

preparing for sleep.

After many tireless months of heat,

they are ready for their sleep.

Winter, I realize, is a lot like the night. It is colder and quieter and much more mysterious. It is more feared and hated and hidden from. It is barren and dark. It is long and harsh.

But it is _amazing._ Breathtaking. Winter is something of wonder. Something of beauty. Dreamlike and unknown. Misunderstood. Different.

And things that are different

are so often,

so terribly often

feared.

But for now, it is fall. And the ponies will be harvesting and throwing festivals and having fun. They will enjoy the scenery, the colours. They will sing and they will dance and they will _live_.

Life goes on.

Without sleep, without love, without colour.

I wonder if the trees have dreams.

Days and days and days turn around. They spin and whirl and flip so fast, I don't know what to do. I'm having trouble standing. The moon spins so much _faster_ than I'm used to. It's maddening.

I wonder if I could die. Not that I plan on killing myself. Just a thought. Something I've been wondering for a while. I am immortal, but am I indestructible? Is there a way to end it? If there was, would Celestia have killed me? Or did she simply send me here out of pity? If my body is destroyed, can it be resurrected? I do not know. I never asked.

I wonder if Celestia still raises the moon.

I wonder if the ponies of Equestria still shy from the night.

There's nothing left for them to fear.

The moon is dead.

I narrow my eyes,

staring down at the world.

Celestia does _not_ miss me.

Why should she care

about a sister who turned

and grew colder than ice?

I am _nothing_.

I feel so empty. It is a disturbing feeling. I feel as though the world has turned to ice. Everypony frozen over. I am all that is left. Only me. Alone.

It is a _cold_ feeling. All I knew, all I left behind could be gone forever. And I do not care.

Hollow.

Deep.

The craters stretch on.

The sky goes forever.

But who mourns for Luna?

I have to shake my head. Have to clear it out.

These thoughts disturb me. They are too close to how I felt when I rose against my sister. But I will stay strong. I will not break again.

I will not.

Life goes on. I will rise again, Celestia. I will return. I have to. I will fly again, I'll be free again. I will live again. I will go on.

And on.

And on...

And on.

I wonder why the skies are so dark up here? Perhaps that is just the way they formed. Perhaps they are dead. There is no air to breathe. All I have is the illusion of breath. But there is magic. Even here. Even so far away from all that is, all I know. Even here, I can feel it. But I have none of my own. It is locked away somewhere deep inside. Somewhere I cannot reach.

I wonder if such a lock could be broken.


	3. 100

100 is a number that creeps into the corners of my mind.

100 days have passed.

100 whispers penetrate my mind.

_Luna,_

_who was she?_

_The mare in the moon._

_Still there?_

_Uncertain._

_But the moon is full._

_We don't need her._

_Not anymore._

Sometimes I can see them. The ponies below. I can see them just behind my eyes. They go about their days without a care in the world. They shop in the markets and read in the libraries and stroll around in the parks. They play with their foals and write letters to relatives. They have friends and family and pets and have lives that go on and thoughts so simple with their hopes and their dreams. They continue on as though nothing ever happened. As though nothing had ever gone wrong in their perfect little utopia. Life is good. Life is fair.

100 days.

That is how long it took them to forget me.

There's a scent in the air, or at least what I perceive as the illusion of scent and air. It smells like rusted iron and stale salt. I have to stop for a moment to ponder what it is. Then I look down and survey the land around me. Pale grey and silver-white, but decorated distinctly with tiny smears of red. Nestled in the crevices of half-circle imprints in the dust. They glare at me, angry. Asking, _'what did you do?'_

"I've cut my hooves," I reply, noticing the pain for the first time.

_'Reckless,'_ they say back. _'Reckless, reckless.'_

I've managed to split my right back hoof and cut the other three. Just deep enough to draw blood, but not deep enough for me to notice right away. I do not know how I did it. All I know is that I'm starting to feel the sting. The dust gets into the wounds, the blood gets into the dust.

I _do_ have blood. I've drawn it before. What I don't know is if it will ever run out.

I've only been here for days.

Days, not years,

and I'm already breaking.

So many whispers.

Voices.

They say that I am evil.

Malicious.

Cold.

Unfeeling.

Brutal.

Evil.

They call me the _'lesser sister'_. The fallen one who wanted too much, who fought too hard. The star that rose just after evening, in the shadow of the sun. The jealous star who tried to steal too much light and ended up a stone. The star that fell but never hit ground.

I'm sorry, Celestia. I'm so sorry...

I lay down again in a bed of dust, huddled into a ball, tail wrapped around my body. _I'm so sorry..._ All I want is to go home. All I want is to apologize and hug my sister and tell everypony that it wasn't me. It was that bitter feeling I have deep inside. That cold, cold, _cold_ feeling in that secrete, hidden corner of my heart. It's so_strong_ and so _hard_ to fight. But I will suppress it. I will. If only to go home... _Oh sister, I'm sorry._

_No,_ says a voice from somewhere deep inside. _We are not._

And all the heat rushes from my body.

Everything is hollow

and empty.

I'm fighting,

I'm trying.

Fighting the feelings,

those _amazing_ feelings,

_dangerous_ feelings.

The _hate_ is so powerful,

so overwhelming,

I cannot fight it.

I cannot

I can_not_.

_We are not weak inherently. We can be strong. We can make ourselves strong. And all we have to do is will it. Want it. Desire to get off this rock. Get back to Equestria and rule as we were meant to. Let the night eclipse the day—for eternity!_

I'm struggling. Trying not to let this force overpower me. But it's too strong, and I'm too weak—but I must! I must not let this side come out again. This is the side that exiled me. The side that trapped me here. This is the side I _must_ control.

But I'm failing.

Everything is dark and dim. I feel numb, closed off, distant. Nothing matters. Everything seems so far,_far_ away.

My heart is pounding.

_Thump-thump..._

thump-thump...

_thump-thump..._

Every breath is amplified, every gasp, every draw, every exhale.

I'm floating,

floating on the moon,

drifting from my body.

I'm losing.

I'm losing the fight.

And all around me, there's that voice. That hollow echo of a voice.

_Accept,_ it coos, _accept your true self._

And I know I want to do what it says. I want to accept. I want to embrace her—my other side. The nightmare that persuaded me to rebel against the light. My bitter self, my jealous self. She penetrates my mind, enters my dreams. I can't get away.

—I can't get away.

And there's a flash—

Massive.

_Violent._

A wave,

_crashing_!

Rising,

boiling,

drowning—

I gasp for breath but choke,

I struggle but I'm paralyzed.

She's got me.

Grabbing,

dragging—

—_Stop!_

No!

Please.

I don't want—

I don't want to—

_Please!_

I open my mouth to scream but I can't make a sound. There's no one around to help. No one around to see.

—Get her _away_!

_No. Embrace. We are one. Accept the power that is your birthright. Do not fight me, Luna. You don't want to fight me._

My heart slows.

She's right.

I don't.

I take a deep breath. I want her to take over. I want to feel the power coursing through my veins. I want to be strong!

But—

But I can't.

She's too dangerous.

Too dangerous...

With one final violent burst of will, I gather up all my remaining strength and throw her from my mind. Hurtling her as far away as I possibly can.

"_Enough!_"

And I fall to the ground. Crumple like a wilted flower.

Darkness.

I can feel the moon spin.


	4. Years

After day 365, the years bled into one. Night and day have no distinction. I wander without direction.

Sometimes the rocks rise up

from the ground,

grow branches

and sprout leaves.

Sometimes the land

resembles grass

and rivers

and flowered gardens.

And sometimes still,

the voices of ponies

echo through the plains.

It is as it should be,

but hard to understand.

For I know it isn't real.

My imagination may still be in effect, but the moon is barren nonetheless.

And She never stops calling my name.

It's distant sometimes. So far away I can barely hear it. I almost forget it's there. But it is always there.

Always.

And the claws and talons and teeth of the land have battered my small being. I wear the scars inside. Hidden under skin and hide, under bones that mend and blood that runs clean. I wear the scars all over my soul. Torn and ragged. Beaten.

_You coward._

I shake my head. Blink. Take a breath.

"No." I am firm. I am certain. "No, I am _not_ a coward."

And somewhere deep inside me, past the veil of certainty, beyond my strengthening will—she's laughing, but says nothing more.

What day is it? What year? What hour? What have they done down below? They talk of changes when I listen. They talk of things I do not understand. There's so much bad and so much good and I am not sure what to take from it.

They do not speak of me any more.

_Be known,_ She whispers softly. _Be known._

"No," I reply. "I walk alone."

She comes to me in dreams. She attacks the good I try to cling to. The fragments of my former self I've struggled to contain. One night I dreamt of snowflakes, but she forced me to melt it all. Now my dreams consist of fire, and all my friends are dead.

She killed them all.

I had few. So very few. But there _were_ those who existed to love the night. Owls and bats and night-crawlers that nopony dared to face. But I love them so. I lov_ed_ them so.

But She's taken all the memories. All the times I've shared with them. She's killed them all.

_One should not waste one's time with non-sapient beings._

"But they were my friends. They were my familiars."

_They were nothing._

And down below, the winter sings.

I see the clouds form whirls.

The blizzards sweeping across the land.

Watch the stars fall white.

They are free.

And there's my sister,

in her palace,

smiles as she watches.

She watches as they do the work,

and she sits by in comfort.

She watches the clouds and mist and light,

the snow and painted hills.

She watches as the land is transformed

by the purest of white snow.

She's always watching.

I've stopped sleeping altogether now. I couldn't take the dreams. She's got them all twisted around. Destroying what good memories I have left. It's troubling to not remember. All I have are screams and hate. My sister banishes me and resents me and fears what I can do. She doesn't love me. She never did. Nopony ever has. They're all gone now. Never existed. They've left my mind for somewhere else. They've gone to the Land of the Forgotten, the place where they will _rot._

I haven't moved in weeks.

I've just been sitting here, watching, gazing intently at the spinning globe. The ponies below changing and living and loving and dying. They feel sorrow and regret and fear and hatred, just as I do. But they also feel love and happiness and wonder and excitement. Feelings I've begun to miss. I can't remember what it feels like to love. All I have left in my heart is this bitter coldness. This distant, hollow void where everything has emptied out.

There is nothing to eat on the moon. And though I know I cannot starve, I still feel the hunger. My stomach tearing itself apart, growling angrily and raking at my sides. I don't move because I can't and because I have no will. I don't move because the pain is overwhelming. I try to pull my mind way but it's always there.

So I watch the ponies below. Watch as they eat their meals and laugh with their friends and sleep contently in their beds. I watch as foals grow and live and love and die, and it would be depressing if I could still_feel_. It would be depressing if _She_ hadn't taken that part of me away.

Death is nothing to me.

Empathy doesn't exist,

compassion is worthless.

I'm trying,

I am,

but I feel nothing.

Deep inside,

past my skin and flesh and blood,

past my heart,

past my mind,

deep down in my _soul_

there is nothing.

There is _nothing_ left,

She took it all

and I don't even care.

Those ponies down below whose love I once desired mean nothing to me now. They are shells. Hollow beings that exist for no other reason than to serve as entertainment. It is all so petty from up here. Life. So meaningless, so dull and dreary and painful.

_But, Luna, don't you want their love?_

"I do not know." I furrow my brow. I find this disturbing. I really _don't_ know. At first, I was easy for Her to control because of my desire for love. But now... can I even feel it anymore?

This almost makes me want to laugh. "You've taken it all away. It's all gone. Nothing matters anymore." Then I throw back my head and cry, "I am dead! My dreams are dead! My heart is dead! My soul? Dead!" I feel a knot in my throat but I ignore it. "You've _killed_ me. It's over! It's all over."

The voice is silent.

"Do you hear me? I am _dead_! It's over!" I can feel the tears well up in my eyes. I close them tight, my head still lifted to the stars. "_Leave me alone!_"

Silence.

There is a sort of calm stillness to the air. I will not open my eyes. The Nightmare will come back. She'll come back to take over, to devour, to find more to take away.

But part of me... a very small, _small_ part of me still wants her back. If only for another voice.

It's meaningless down there.

Pointless.

It is.

I don't want to go back.

I feel nothing.

I feel _nothing_!

I don't care about them anymore.

I don't care about love.

I do _not_ miss my sister.

I do _not_ miss Equestria.

I do _not_!

Oh why is the moon so _empty_?

I'm pacing now. Can't stop. Back and forth, back and forth. Dust rises up around me. My hooves scuff the ground. Red smears follow every step. Did I cut myself again? I don't know. I keep pacing.

Pacing...

Clear my head.

Stop thinking.

Stop!

The sky is dark. The stars shine dull above. They don't care about me. They watch but they do nothing. They couldn't move if they wanted to. Forever trapped in the endless cycle of night and day. Light and dark. Around and around. Forever and ever and ever and ever-

—_Stop!_

Scarlet snakes at my hooves. Is there glass on the moon? What have I been stepping on? Can't feel it. Feel nothing. Just bleed. Bleed and never die. Live on. Keep living. It never ends.

Never ends...

The sky is bruised black with blue veins and tiny specks of blood. Rigid teeth and solar talons circle all around. Just one giant monster encasing me here. Ready at any moment to open up its mighty jaws and—

—Suddenly there's a flash of light, forcing me to a halt. A comet hurtles towards me, blazing white and green and gold. My heart starts pounding, screaming, _run! Run!_ But I stand still. Force my legs rigid. Don't move... Don't move.

This is it.

I brace myself for impact, hold my breath, close my eyes, wait for it... wait... wait—

And the comet smashes down,

throws me in the air.

I'm floating.

Drifting.

It's so _hot_.

Scorching.

Burning.

Fire light all around me.

The night engulfed in flame.

Dust and dirt and rock and debris

soar all around me.

A slash and a cut,

battered, thrown,

air rushing in my ears

tumbling,

turning,

gliding

—then crash into the ground.

Everything stops.

Dark.

Empty.

A void.

Can't move.

A voice calls out—

Is it Her?

Hard to tell.

Don't recognize the words. Can't understand. Just a name. Mine? Can't remember... Was it? Was my name—

_"Luna?"_

I blink and jump and twist my head. My heart is racing. My ears are ringing. Every bone in my body is screaming. I try to speak but I can't find my voice. There's talking all around me. Nonsense. I can't make it out. But it's not Her.

It's not Her.

Blurry shapes dance and duck and swirl around me. I smell blood. Everywhere. So much. Too much... So hard to breathe. Something pushing on my chest-

—Then suddenly healed-

—In a second.

I slow my breathing. Close my eyes, then open them again. Clear. I can see the shapes. I can see...

Ponies?

Three of them.

One leans over me, covered in cuts and slashes and so, _so_ much blood. Sad green eyes stare down.

I gaze at him in awe. "H-how...?" My voice is weak. My head is throbbing. I strain to hear his answer.

"Banished, Luna. Like you."

_Banished. Like us._

It can't be...


	5. Them

I do not know what to think. They have landed here. But how?

The First comes to me when I open my eyes.

He is grey, ragged-winged, torn coat.

His mane somewhere between stone and sky,

blue sky,

pale sky.

He is dull, dusty,

blends with the moon,

but his eyes—

his _eyes_!

So green.

So deep.

Just stare into me.

They make him look _real_.

And I almost believe he is.

The Second sets her gaze on me with slate-grey eyes, open to their widest. She wobbles on her hooves, all coated in blood that does not belong to her. She struggles to stand, _quivering_ with fear. Her breathing is ragged, sharp, uneven. She doesn't blink. Merely stares. Stares at me behind a pale violet mask, so washed and worn, the rich colour I'm sure it once held has long since faded away. She is but a ghost of her former self. Walking in fur too old for her skin. She is _young._ They are _all_ young.

The Third sits in quiet contemplation.

She says nothing. Does nothing.

Just sits there with her head tilted up, her gaze focussed on some point just above me.

She doesn't blink.

And her eyes are _gold_. Like the sun, but much deeper.

Her mane is long and white, a shade lighter than her coat, almost platinum.

She has a horn, but it means nothing.

She is ruffled.

Messy.

Covered with blood.

But I know that under all that torment, under the scars and scrapes and ugliness of battle—

She is beautiful.

And for the first time in only the stars know how many years, I wonder what I look like. It is a silly thought, a vein, stupid, self-conscious thought. But it is something to wonder. How have I aged? Have I aged at all? Do I look the same as I did when I was first banished? I do not know.

There are no mirrors on the moon.

No water to reflect.

I'm so thirsty...

Calm yourself.

You are fine.

But these ponies,

whoever they are,

wherever they came from,

you need to find out what they did.

What battles they have fought,

whose blood they now wear.

You can't trust them.

You don't even know if they're real.

Could be a trick.

But why, I do not know.

And then She comes to me. Whispering, always whispering. She's trying to tell me something, but I can't quite understand. Something about stars. Something about Celestia. Something about weakness. I'm not sure.

The First is looking at me, eyes wide but brow curved with concern. I look down and realize I am covered in blood. I don't feel it, it doesn't hurt me. I wonder where it came from? I feel fine. I feel as though nothing could hurt me. I am not certain if I like this indestructible feeling or not. If I can't die, am I to spend my eternity here? Watching those below as they live and love and perish? Watching and doing nothing?

I look to the Second. "Are you alright?" I ask. She seems nervous, unsteady. She taps her hoof on the ground, kicking dust, specks of grey mingling with the red on her coat.

She shakes her head. "I-I... I d-don't know."

"All is not well down below..." the First explains, stepping forward. His voice is low, almost... tragic. I don't know what to think. I can _see_ down below. I see that all is fine. They are happy. They are forgetting me.

"What do you mean?" I ask, standing up.

"The day cannot exist without the night. Celestia has grown weak, unable to keep up with raising the moon, the sun, the stars. It's too much for her. She thought about releasing you but... the spell was for a thousand years, and she doesn't have the strength to remove it."

Doesn't have the strength?

_It is a lie,_ She tells me. _Celestia has the strength for anything. She is a goddess. She could release you if she wanted. But why should she? She is afraid of your power. What she wants is to weaken you, until you're hopeless, until you're nothing but dust in the craters. A kitten is no threat to a tiger._

I shake my head. "How do I know? Why are you here?"

The Second looks afraid, moving behind the First as if for protection. Protection from... me? I suppose she has every right to be afraid, but it hurts nonetheless.

Celestia's lies have hit deep.

_That's right, Luna. Lies. Always lying to you, always trying to make herself look better. To make you look like the villain. Let it fester, Luna. Let her words sink in. Don't you feel the hate?_

I blink, trying to push Her voice away. I need to be rational. I need to keep the Nightmare at bay.

"As previously stated, we have been banished," says the Third, still distant. Her voice sounds hollow. She gazes up at the sky as though it holds all the answers, every key, every idea. Of course, it doesn't. Though I do wonder what she sees.

"But why?" I ask while stepping over to her, trying to read her blank expression.

"Does it matter?" says the First. His voice is hurt. And as I look at them, I realize. They're all hurt. All broken, fragmented little pieces of what they once were. Does it matter what they did? Should I care?

There is no law on the moon.

"Then do not tell me," I sigh. But there is a question that continues to nag at the back of my mind. Something I can't let go. "Do they... do they really remember me?"

The First exchanges a glance with the Second. The Third stares on, but answers despite the distance. "Yes," she says simply. "They remember."

I don't have the strength to ask what they remember me as, so I do not question her.

_They remember us, Luna. Who could forget?_

But there's just something about this that feels... wrong. Something that isn't right.

The Third then turns her head and looks me in the eyes. She looks past everything I am and sees the truth. "You are wondering, I can tell. You're thinking, what is wrong with Equestria? What is wrong with the world you left behind, when you so clearly still see it as paradise?" Then she sets her golden eyes on the planet below. "What you see is an illusion. Equestria is in turmoil, Luna. Look closer."

So I do as she says, look down, past the veil of perfection I've seen all these years, deeper and deeper into the chaos below. Ponies fear and fight and cower. The sun blazes down on them like demons from the land of fire. And Celestia, in her castle, sits at the end of a long hall with fearful guards posted along the walls. She looks nervous, concerned and exhausted. She has dark rings around her eyes and I can tell she has not slept. As the world outside is riddled with unknown wars, I see bats lying dead in the desert. Celestia sits still, she does not move as she tries to answer the pleas of the ponies lined up at her door. But they all speak at once and nopony can understand what they want.

"Do you see now?"

I don't need to answer. I see. I see everything, but I am still not sure. _What_ am I seeing? What do I want to see? Paradise? Chaos? Who started this war, why is it happening? I know the logic seems in question but as I see this, as I see everything happening down below, I believe it. I believe it with every fiber of my being.

There's nothing left.

_Then take it. Take it all while she's weak. Listen to me, Luna, you want to fix this, do you not? You want to prove that you are the rightful leader. You will save them from chaos! You will save them from everything! Break free! Let me out!_

No.

I cannot let her out. I cannot let her take control. She's too powerful, too much. Whatever is happening down below, she would only make it worse. I know she would.

I close my eyes. I don't know who to listen to, what's real, what isn't. I don't know what to think. Which version is right? Which version to I want? But I believe... oh stars, I believe it all.

"So you were banished," I say, trying to pull myself up from the turmoil in my mind. I look at the three. I see they are scared, they don't know what to do, what to think. "Like me." _Like us._ "I know it is not easy. It never will be, but at least you are not alone. _I_ am not alone." The First manages a smile that I am more grateful for than anything. It has been a long time since I last saw somepony smile. "What are your names?"

"There is no need for names," says the Third.

I study her. "But what shall I call you?"

"You shouldn't have to call. We will always be here."


End file.
